Friday, December 19, 2008

17-Mile Daddy

Once and a while, one of your kids does something so funny and unexpected it just throws you for a loop. Take today, for example. I've been working on getting stuff posted to Uncharted, and taking lots of notes so I'd know what I had to do. My six-year-old daughter came along when I wasn't in the room, saw my notes and decided to add one of her own (shown above with the red arrows). She's such a cutie.

Pardon Our Dust

We definitely need one of these signs up at Uncharted. The site is live, most things are working, but yet there are still some embarrassments as far as copy editing and functionality. Take, for example, the e-mail message that's sent out when you invite someone to look at a set of photos you've just published at Uncharted. Two words, and two typos: (Photo's invitaion). It's SO embarrassing. So we realize that as we go into the first week of the launch, there are some things like this -- a lot of things like this -- that we need to fix. Please bear with us. Pardon our dust, as the old saying goes.

Other problems -- like the inability to geotag at the moment -- are being worked on, and should be functioning properly again by this evening. At least that's the hope.

All of this reminds me of one of my favorite films, Apollo 13 -- particularly the spart just after liftoff when one of the engines shuts down and Tom Hanks' character Jim Lovell says "Well, I think we just had our glitch for this mission." Now, I hope Uncharted doesn't leave anybody stranded in space for three days with little water, electricity, oxygen or other basic necessities of life, but at the same time please understand that we feel your pain. Really. Because what's blocking you from making the site work is also blocking us. So we are working on things. Pardon our dust.

The Selling of Honey

Blogger's Note: Again, I keep finding all this stuff I started writing, and wonder where I was going with it. Like the following item, which I called "The Selling of Honey." Don't remember what that title was all about. But the story seems salvageable. It's a fragment, however. Nothing complete.

A croque-monsieur, an apple juice, a bunch of grapes. Quickly he keyed in his order and drummed his fingers as the automat digested his card and spat it out on the tray along with his food. He found his usual table – facing the plate-glass front where he could glance over his newspaper at the fountains and trees in the park.

At first, last August, he thought he’d never get used to Fifteen Minute Public Lunch this early in the day, but then, he reasoned, maybe someone else was finding it hard to adjust to his own old time, when the view out the window was less sun-lit trees and more starlight and moonbeams glancing off the bits of quartz embedded in the pavement.

He never got tired of watching the leaves fall. Often he’d lower his paper, eyes latched on a tumbling maple leaf as it sailed along on currents of air until its fluttering motion caught the attention of one of the VacuBots that scurry through the park to clean up such rubbish. Some of the bots had quite an aggressive flair about them, plucking the tumbling leaves from the air while a few, like bottom feeders, simply idled at the center of their areas until a ground sensor told them something was waiting for their attention. Then Marko would look at his watch, drain his cup and stuff the grapes and half-eaten croque-monsieur into his coat pocket because he was down to his last thirty seconds.


It never paid to be late. Or early.

On time. Always on time. But then, the Regimen made that easy.

It helped one avoid confusion. You never felt a second of your time was wasted because at the end of the day there was always the strictest of accoutings for each second, and often, for smaller units of time some humans didn’t even know they had at their disposal. The Regimen also made Encounters – the Counters bragged – 99.9999999998 percent impossible.

Murphy’s Law, Marko’s mother feared, would make that tiny chance of an Encounter very likely to strike her more than anyone else. He tried to assure her, as they exchanged messages on the phone and by computer and video, that Regimen Control advertised their number as not being totally foolproof only as a gimmick. “No rational person believes it when another tells him that something is 100 percent assured,” he told her in a voice message sent to her home near Shreveport late one Tuesday morning when he knew she’d be playing video solitaire with her cronies. “It’s an assertion as empty as Eve. Believe it or not, it’s more believable if they even hint that an attempt has been made to mathematically compute their ‘true’ rate of success. Besides, the risk still sells.”

“Risk. You and your father and always this risk. Well,” she fussed, “we all know what risk got him, don’t we?”

“Yes, mother, it got him you.”

She laughed. “Don’t be smart. You know what I’m talking about. He had an Encounter he’ll never forget. Nor shall we, for that matter. Silly old man, walking through the park all impromptu like that. I’ll still never understand how the Sentries let him pass, but then they were trying out that new sensor technology. I’ve never much trusted all these sensors and robots, but you know that. Liked it better when the Sentries were those nice blind gentlemen who sat in their booths and whistled when it was clear to pass. That is the way they did it back in Pottstown, and that’s the way it should be done today.”


“You told me you hated those blind Sentries,” Marko mocked, as his mother fussed with her hat and tried to shush him. “Didn’t one kinda, well, whistle at you special whenever you walked past? Dad kinda thought he wasn’t blind. You said he always whistled funny when you had a skirt on.”

“Stop that, impertinent grub,” she laughed. “Your grandfather told that story about your grandmother as well. Curse your father for repeating it to you all those years. Swore I was going to destroy those memory tapes, but then they do belong to you now. I see a smirk forming. An impertinent question looms. May as well have it now, sonny.”

Marko tried to turn the smirk into an innocent smile. “How much longer until Dad gets out?”


Her face clouded. “Well, he’s, probably. . .I think. . .you know we’re really not supposed to talk about such things, Marko! It’s not exactly forbidden, but
. . .

“But your uppity upbringing forbids you from talking of family disgraces, except for telling stories about the innumerable times I lost my glasses as a child to your cronies. Really, mother, if I ask it’s not because I’m going to scream the answer your give from the rooftops. I ask because I want to know.”

“Still can’t believe you flushed your third pair of glasses down the toilet, son. Now,” she posed innocently, “what was the question? Ah, yes. Your philandering father. He should be getting out of Group in about, what, three and a half weeks. But then he’s on probation – a personal SentryBot for six months; may as well tie a dozen red helium balloons to him with an even larger balloon further up above him with an arrow pointing down at him saying “Watch This Man” – and he’ll be back to his old ways at the soda factory, sweeping floors and humming and whistling and composing those idiot love sonnets in his head to send to me.”

“Now mother, I know you keep every one of them."

“So, what if I do?”

“Right. So what if you do?”

“I just hope I can keep him from wandering off again. He is such an idiot dreamer sometimes.”

“The SentryBot will take care of that. Besides, I hear Group does a lot for characters like Dad.”

His mother sighed. “Promise me, Marko. Promise me. Cynthia says she’ll never talk to him again, for the embarrassment. She’s always so easily embarrassed, not like you. Promise me you’ll talk to your father. No matter what. He always listens to you, Marko. He’ll listen to you.”


Marko’s mother had always been a worrier. She sent fussy notes to the Tutoring Center, wondering why Marko’s penmanship lagged behind that of his peers. She quailed incessantly with recreation coordinators, scoutmasters and operators of the robot basketball squads about Marko’s inability to overcome his coordination difficulties, which she believed resulted from the day long ago when the robot supervising Marko’s first feeble forays on two feet failed to prevent him from walking to – and cracking his skull on – the stone hearth at his grandfather’s old house. She worried that the cubicle at his office was too small, the walls too thin and too poorly insulated against echoes and whispers, which had always given him nightmares as a child.


“One of these days, Mom, you’re going to turn around and find out that there’s nothing to worry about,” Marko teased. “Don’t worry. I’ll always listen to Dad.”

“Yes. That’s what worries me.”

They both chuckled. “See what I mean, mother? Ten seconds out of the pen and a new worry already to start the day. ”


“Shut up.”

“Don’t worry.”

“When that happens, I’ll either be dead or worry about my lack of worries, dearie. Now blow a kiss to your mother and let her get back to her solitaire.” Marko blew a kiss at the computer screen. His mother cooed, then waved.

Thursday, December 18, 2008

Uncharted Has Launched

After our successful launch of Uncharted Phase II last night, I feel it’s necessary to put a few thoughts down on paper (or at least the ethers) to thank those who’ve been involved in this tremendous project.

To Uma and the other programmers at Nyros – Thanks so much for being patient with us and, in particular, for working with us beyond what you agreed to do in getting our site working to this point. We presented a difficult task for you to accomplish and, by my measurements, you performed well. We look forward to an ongoing relationship with you as we move Uncharted through successive tweaks and iterations.

To Andrew and the rest of the design team – Thanks for making us look good. Thanks for keeping your senses of humor, and for dealing with the rest of us through this project. We put a lot on your shoulders, and you came through for us.

To Sarge and the marketing/communication team – Thanks for working tirelessly with our beta testers and for keeping the faith, despite the roadblocks we kept encountering throughout the testing process. Thanks for prodding the rest of us to talk enthusiastically with our testers, and for reminding us to live the Uncharted lifestyle.

To Scott – Wow. What else can I say? You’ve worked probably the hardest of us all over these past few months. I never heard you complain or waver – and I’m sure you’re the only one on the team I can say that of. Every time I thought of you working those long nights with Nyros, tweaking things, figuring things out, only to hear the rest of us complaining about the things that were not working while rarely recognizing the things that did work, I felt grateful you were there doing what you were doing. We owe you a lot.

To Alan – Thanks for bossing us around and otherwise using your Sith Lord powers to get us off our duffs and getting the work done. You always encouraged us and only yelled at us when we really, really deserved it. Hope you’re not hoarse.

Now – for all of us: We’ve got to live that Uncharted lifestyle. We have a working site now. We need to fill it. I remember that being a concern back at our last retreat in May. It’s still a concern. Each team member needs not only to write stories, take photos and post them to the site, but we’ve also got to continue encouraging everyone we know to do the same. Sarge and the marketing/communication team will do their part, but we’ll do much better if we all become communicators and marketers. If we don’t show others that we’re excited about Uncharted and what we’re doing there, no one else will be.

The easy part is done, folks. Now the long road begins. Live that lifestyle. I know I’ll try harder to do so.

Wednesday, December 17, 2008

Here We Go

Spent some time today tinkering with the uncharted.net site, which we'll unveil to the world tonight. There are still some frustrating elements to deal with, but for a first iteration, I think we've come light years from what we had a year ago.

All of this makes me feel like Dr. Frankenstein here:

"It . . . Could . . . Work!"

What's best about this is that we're no longer waiting in the box, straining for that pistol shot to begin the race. Starting tonight, we're in the race, competing for Intertubes eyeballs, contributors, social networkers and, yes, what money we can make from the venture. So we'll see what happens. I'm excited.

(By the way, Internet: You'd think someone would have a video clip of Dr. Frankenstein shouting "It . . . could . . . work!" for me to use here. But NOOOOOOO.)

Tuesday, December 16, 2008

Parody Time


Any good journalist, of course, knows that writing to one's audience is the best way to connect and make readers care about what you're writing. And then there are the writers who try to connect to the New York Times audience, where you get stories like this: As the Rich Get Poorer, Teenagers Feel the Crunch.

The kind folks at Slate.com asked readers to submit a parody. Here is mine:

When Angela Frump started her junior year of high school in Scoville, Idaho, this fall, she cut a path at her school with her clothing, shoes and easy way with her spending money.

But in October he father lost his job as foreman at a huge hog rendering plant at Atomic City, then landed one close to home as an itinerant babbler who gesticulates at traffic while waving a “Will Work for Pilates” sign at busy street corners. Angela now steals clothing from the bin behind the Salvation Army Thrift Store rather than wait until the store opens in order to do her shopping. She no longer has used wax paper to stuff in the holes in her shoes and makes due with newspaper. And the $5 weekly allowance she got from ruffling through coat pockets in the cloakroom when everyone else was at church? “Most of the damn pockets are empty these days,” she says with a sigh, knowing the special treat of a hot school lunch once a week is now a thing of the past.

But she’s no slouch. To help her family make ends meet and to buy that hot lunch now every other week, Angela took a job three months ago stocking shelves at Target. “They’ve treated me well,” she says. “Just had my 90-day review and got a 15 cents an hour raise. Can’t beat that these days. I always like to be saving up for something that I have my eye on – a new pair of socks, a toothbrush, a package of gum.” She hopes the temporary holiday position she signed on for turns into a permanent gig, but her manager reminds her constantly there are no guarantees.
“Yeah, I fall asleep in class a lot more often now, but I’m the Cardboard Connection in my neighborhood now,” she boasts. She recently moved her mother and two younger siblings into a shack made of detergent cases her Target manager lets her take home. “They’re a lot sturdier,” she says. “They hold up against the wind, and since, they’re waxed, they keep the rain out. They beat the Heier boxes we moved into in November.” She’s saving up now for pallets she hopes will raise the house off the frozen earth.

It’s impossible, of course, to quantify how many of Scoville’s similarly affluent parents have trimmed expenses in recent months – or how many of their offspring, in turn, have sought either formal employment or Foster care. But interviews with dozens of teenagers, parents or care guardians, parole officers and discount store managers suggest that many youngsters from the area’s well-to-do families have found a new work ethic as their parents or guardians lose their jobs and the jars of loose change they had squirreled away for retirement. That has led, however, to less spending money for toilet paper or binges at Wal-Mart.

In Aberdeen, Idaho, a battered waferboard bulletin board near city hall that connects high school students with nearby job opportunities attracts a huddled mass of sixty or so teens every day since September, up from about ten to 20 last fall, but part of that might be that the bulletin board provides an excellent windbreak from the area’s strong winter gales.

Beau Howard says he stood at the board every afternoon for two weeks until he noticed it had jobs posted on the windward side. He quickly found a job shoveling rotten potatoes out of a nearby cellar. “I didn’t want to bug my parents for extra cash,” he said, resting on the shovel handle and holding his bare right foot out of the muck while the foreman had his back turned. “I figure if I can keep this up for another couple weeks, I’ll have enough money to buy that right boot. That way, I can walk past that ‘No Shirt, No Shoes, No Service’ sign at McDonalds without guilt and join my buddies there every other Saturday night.”

Monday, December 15, 2008

Uncharted, Unbound

It’s the moment all Uncharted fans (full-blown to pupative) have been waiting for: The Launch. Or, as the picture here intimates, Uncharted is finally out of prison.

That’s right. We’re launching our new site this Wednesday, sometime in the evening. I presume around 7 pm Mountain Time. I’ve missed a few memos. For the Facebooked, we’ll host an online launch party at the Uncharted Facebook site starting at about 7 pm. I’ll be there, with bells on. And also pants. At least until it’s time to go to that home teaching appointment. But then I’ll be back.

We’re thrilled to have the site finally reach this point – we’ve gone from a rather static interface to a full-blown linear social networking interface in which explorers may collide with others as they engage in virtual hand-to-hand combat as they post stories and photos detailing their adventures, be they in the rugged wilds of Wyoming or the corner park. Remember, if you think your adventure spot, hidey-hole, get-away-from-it-all place is neat, so do we.

Any questions, drop me a line here. Otherwise, we’ll see you at the party Wednesday. Then afterward, visit us at Uncharted.net and join the community. We're nuts. But that means we're like you.

Lesson Learned: One Team, Different Pages

Blogger's Note: What follows is a paper I wrote for a digital media class I recently completed at Utah State, part of my masters program in technical communication (six more credits to go).

As a group of college friends works with a foreign team of programmers to build a new social networking website, they forget that a good plan – including communication and accounting for setbacks – is key to success and company morale.

The inflammatory rhetoric flowed like pyroclastic lava.

“As I see it, we are already being held hostage by the programmers,” one said. “We are at their mercy and we can’t afford that.”

“I hear you, man,” another replied. “It took three months or more for this incompetent programming team to get where we are right now, it will take equal amount of time or longer for [us] to take it to where we want to be, is my opinion.”

It is early September, 2008. Designers for Uncharted.net, a new social website that focuses on citizen journalists sharing their travel adventures with their friends and the world, are fed up with the site's programmers.

Seeking an inexpensive alternative to building the website, which includes searchable databases of stories, photos, and videos; social functions such as member profiles, e-mail, and chat, Uncharted chose Nyros, a software development company in Kakinada, India,for the work. Operating from an arbitrarily-set August 31 deadline, the Uncharted team anticipated the programmers would finish the work in two months, at a cost of about $11,000 – a bargain in programming circles (similar work done in the United States, we discovered, would have cost us between $50,000 to $75,000).

As the programming “dragged on,” however, tempers started to flare. Only an intervention by the company's executive director and an increased focus on clear communication with the programmers pulled the company away from ruining what has now blossomed into an excellent working relationship between Uncharted and Nyros.

In retrospect, we see four things we could have done differently to make this project go more smoothly from the beginning:

● Get a good communicator involved immediately.
● Consider programming styles – and make sure everyone has the same style in mind.
● Use multiple means of communication.
● Assign one or two interested team members to become apprentice programmers.
● Plan for setbacks.

Get a good communicator involved immediately. In our case, Scott Stephenson, Uncharted's business manager, was the best fit to act as communicator between our team in America and our programmers in India. First of all, he is an immensely patient man, willing to recognize that differences in communication and culture would have to be surmounted. He also has a class and work schedule that allowed him to stay up late – often times to two to three in the morning – communicating by chat and e-mail with the programmers in India, who started their day at 9 pm Stephenson’s time.

He found right away that there were some concepts he was familiar with but that his counterpart in India was not. “Perhaps the biggest ‘wake up Scott’ experience was with the modular idea I mentioned” to the programmers, Stephenson said. The Indian programmers were in the habit of building websites from the ground up, with parts that were tightly integrated with each other. For Uncharted, Stephenson wanted them to take a modular approach, developing site functionalities in pieces so they could be more easily updated and repaired. “I remember well the sensation I experienced when it hit me that he didn’t understand what I was talking about. I set everything aside and took about fifteen minutes just to talk about the philosophy. I am absolutely certain that things have gone incredibly more smoothly since then because I took the time to explain it.”

He has an apt metaphor: “All you have to do to see it is walk in someone else’s kitchen and try to put the dishes away,” he says. You discover quickly, he adds, “that in some ways [people] are very alike, but in many things we are as different as night and day.”

As technical communicators, we can take this dish duty metaphor into a discussion on finding innovation. As David Hailey, an associate professor at Utah State University writes in an unpublished manuscript he made available to his digital media class, creativity is not enough to foster innovation. “We think students should be taught how to make innovative decisions – it is not enough to permit students to make the decisions and solve the problems on guesses and unsupported opinions,” Hailey writes.

When working on a new procedure to be used to assess radioactive waste being repackaged at a U.S. Department of Energy site in Idaho, for example, I learned a good lesson on how innovation is the smarter, older brother to the creativity expected of technical communicators.

I worked closely with an expert in nuclear criticality safety and two equipment operators to write the procedure, sitting next to these experts as they worked on the actual equipment in the field. We worked together to find the best possible wording and asked questions of each other. They learned more, as we worked, about the writing process and the standards writers go by, while I learned to understand their processes and science in order to write accurately.

The innovations arrived at through discussion and trial and error were simple ones that relied on trimming the language to take into account the operators' training – which I would not have know about without working with them closely – and by clever application of the company's writing standards in using looped steps and nested routing tables. Because we, as a cross-disciplinary team, had spent so much time working together and writing the document together, an audit of the procedure and process went with only minor bumps – a first in this criticality safety expert’s experience.

Stephenson has taken a similar approach with Nyros, working closely with Uma, a lead programmer at the company, to explain what Uncharted wants and to help troubleshoot when problems arise.

Use multiple means of communication. Even though Uma speaks English, Stephenson learned right off the bat never to assume that his English translated word for word into the English spoken by his Indian counterpart. “Language is one of the things we modify more than any other thing,” Stephenson says. “The phrases we use, even the words we choose to express our thoughts and feeling are a result of our society, even our friends and families. I’d be willing to bed you’d be hard-pressed to find a joke that someone in another country would understand without some sort of explanation to go with it . . . even if they grew up speaking English.”

Stephenson relied, at first, heavily on instant messaging to communicate with the Indian programmers, checking in frequently that he was being clear. “At least until they get fed up with you asking them if you are communicating clearly, assume that they don’t understand what you’re saying,” he said. The same approach, of course, works with native English-speakers in the United States as well, he adds.

Later on, after he built a relationship of trust with Uma, Stephenson switched from relying heavily on instant messaging to relying on written lists, followed up with IM. “The lists allow me to take a bit more time to think through how to say something,” he says.

Giving lists, he found, allowed Uma to delegate tasks to co-workers who don’t speak English. “If I give him a list and give him the opportunity to ask me any questions he has, then go to explain it [to the others], he has the dual experience of learning from me and teaching his co-workers, and understands [what we want] more” than with lists or IM alone.

He also includes as many visuals in his lists as he can, from screen shots to sketches. “If you can find someone that fits your needs that also knows how to sketch, hang on to them, because the sketching talent is worth more than people realize,” he says. “Some things cannot be communicated with words without some kind of visual aids.”

Consider programming styles – and make sure everyone has the same style in mind. Design of the new website proceeded in a classic waterfall pattern, with the design team working in its corner, emerging from time to time like a February groundhog to show us the latest screenshots. We had one team member who excelled at extrapolating what appeared on the static screenshots into functionality, but the rest of us struggled with the concept. That team member left the organization, leaving us with a design-to-functionality gap.

That gap appears to have been shared by the programmers, at least in the early stages of development. The programmers worked very hard to ensure that the site looked exactly like the screenshots they’d been given – but when it came to having the website function as intended, results did not arrive as quickly as the team had anticipated.

It’s clear now that the Uncharted team anticipated Nyros would program in a waterfall pattern, mimicking how the site had been designed – while Nyros followed a spiral pattern, placing emphasis on the first iteration on appearance over functionality, since they interpreted our primary emphasis on the first iteration as design (due to the innumerable number of screenshots we sent them) over functionality.

We could have avoided the confusion – and frustration – felt on the Uncharted side had we been clear that we anticipated a waterfall approach. Nyros, too, could have helped us avoid the confusion by stating that the first iteration was just that – an iteration focusing on design, to be followed by an iteration on functionality. Too many assumptions were made on both sides on what was expected and anticipated.

Part of the difficulty, we realize now, lay in that we were building an entire site from scratch. The next time, we know, it’ll be easier, because we’ll work on the site a piece at a time – and we’ll be sure to communicate with Nyros on what is expected with the first and subsequent iterations.

Assign one or two interested team members in becoming apprentice programmers. If these interested parties choose to learn how to program, the better for them. But, more importantly, these individuals should know enough about programming to be familiar with enough programming “landmarks” to understand how things work. And to have a grasp on how much work is involved in what functionalities the team would like the website to have.

Part of this effort will result in what is known as code switching – using words from different languages in the same communication. This code switching, as Hailey writes, is “intentional and effective, adding an air of friendliness or professionalism” to our conversations.

He points out as well, however, that code switching can be accidental, “demonstrating, for example, that the speaker is struggling with a new language.” I know this feeling well from my efforts to learn French. Even with several years’ worth of language study and after living in France for nearly two years, I still engage in code-switching when I find I don't know the French words or sentence structures for the thoughts I want to speak.

In either case, code switching shows the native speaker that we take our communication engagement seriously. If non-programmers are able to show that programmers that we at least have a rudimentary understanding of their language, we open up chances at better communication.

“A thing some people don't realize is that programming is hard,” says Dave Densley, Uncharted's website project manager. “Some don't know what it takes to make what's been designed function, what it takes to make that button do what it's supposed to, what it takes to make things work.”

Those team members who complained about the pace of programming admit their unfamiliarity with Ruby on Rails, the programming language Nyros is using to build the site. They could use other languages to make a more static, less socially-engaging site, but could not achieve the functionality that Nyros' work is providing, Murry and Stephenson say.

Spurred by our Uncharted experience and a desire to increase my marketability as a technical communicator, I've begun refreshing my memory on the basics of HTML and, once that is solidified in my brain, I will work on understanding the basics of Ruby on Rails. I learned basic HTML just after the Internet's infancy, thanks to policies at the University of Idaho that urged students to use e-mail and build their own web sites, using server space the university provided. Through experimentation, using web browsers' “view source” feature, I learned enough to build several websites. When I left school, however, those skills went to the wayside until recently. Now I'm back to examining how web sites are put together by using tools such as Mozilla Firefox's Firebug, an add-on to the popular web browser that shows HTML, CSS and other web-building code behind the sites I visit.

Plan for Setbacks. Stephenson’s day job is in the aerospace research industry. “This is cutting-edge stuff. Ultra-modern research. And I’m constantly amazed at how, even among people trying new and difficult things, how they rarely plan for setbacks.”

We recognize better preparation could have come through taking a spiral approach to the programming – getting one aspect or module of the overall site working, then moving on to additional aspects or modules – rather than anticipating that once the programming switch was flipped on, things would go smoothly. “As we were going through the [programming] process, we found things that were missing,” Stephenson says. “We had a rather sophisticated design, and we should have anticipated that in this design things would be missed or looked over.” Taking a spiral approach to the programming would have allowed both the Uncharted team and the programmers to identify problems more quickly and get them repaired more quickly.

“One of the problems we have is unrestrained optimism, which is a good problem to have in most respects,” says Alan Murray, Uncharted’s executive director. He’s seen that optimism serve the company well as, for example, the marketing team worked on promotional strategies, the design team worked on website screen shots and the editorial team worked to coordinate content. But when it came to the programming phase, Murray and others saw those optimistic inclinations work to the project’s detriment.

“It seems like we never planned for things to go wrong” with the programming, he says. As one deadline after another fell, Murray saw the optimism quickly exchanged for pessimism, attacks on the programmers and an overall diminution in corporate enthusiasm for what is the company’s flagship – and practically sole – product: the website.

“I think some of us lost the focus, the energy, because of the setbacks,” Murray said. “We'll have to work hard to get that back.” Planning for them, in retrospect, might have helped soften the blows and ease that drain of energy.

Conclusion. “Next time we do programming, it’s going to go a lot more smoothly,” Stephenson says. He believes this for two reasons: First, we have a site to start with, and further programming will be adding to it, rather than starting from scratch. Second, we know that we have to take the extra mile to communicate clearly. Lastly, we know what pitfalls lie in our own creative and innovative processes – pitfalls that glow as brightly as a fresh lava flow.

Sunday, December 14, 2008

I Don't Know What This Is

Colors fading black and white
snow and rock and sky
merge together, fading grey
love and warmth denied

Valley bowels, firn and ice
melt and drip and crack
cedar saplings stiff with rain
wait and watch the black

Black sky growing, Master Bleak
flows down gullies dim
wrapping flowers, cup and leaf
life cowr's deep within

Within an instant, mountaintop
spark and glow and live
veil lies parted, dark beast chas'd
eyes afire alive

Fire in dimness, coal white-hot
Golden Field alight
promised life everlasting
glows to spite the night

Oak, Pinon, long roots thrusting
ice if not in soil
streams flow clear red wine, bub'ling
ease us from our toils

Leafy trees bear golden fruit
no toil nor labor done
rest and peace, all shades of bears
life's great battle won

Life, no longer fears darkness
love no longer wanes
Dwell in Golden Field, release
relief from life's pains

Toil on earth, meet thy color
fight, or farm, or lead
earn reward, here life after
of love, take ye heed

Dwell alive amid plenty
cave and mate and cub
work no longer Brave Fighter
serve eternal round

Reay for Winter?

winter has finally arrived here in Bedford Falls, in all its snowy glory. The white does serve to cover up the ugliness of the brown lawns, the debris of fall still in the gutters and the bland grey of the roadtop. The trees are clad in their crystals of white, branches heavy with snow where in the summer there were leaves.

And I'm face-up with my greatest dislike of winter: the weekend shuffling of the vehicles.

We're not allowed to park on the streets here during the night when there's snow on the ground, on the grounds that the city might eventually plow the snow. We have no garage, and a driveway that's narrow enough we have to park one vehicle behind the other. On weekends, the truck takes the off-position, as the van is the vehicle of choice. But every Sunday night I have to shuffle the vehicles because, in the wee hours of the morning, it's the truck that gets me to the bus stop. tonight, I had to spend about half an hour scraping windshields, brushing snow off roof and fenders and otherwise cleaning the white glop off the vehicles so I can get them ready for the morning.

I hate the scrape-scrape sound of the ice sraper. The cold of the snow eating through my gloves. And, since it's tradition to wear clogs rather than anything else in which to move the snow, I also hate the cold of the stuff getting into my shoes and soaking my socks. Yes, I could put on real shoes, but freezing my feet off is part of the tradition.